


we'll be a fine line

by amnesiayourself



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Divergent, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amnesiayourself/pseuds/amnesiayourself
Summary: Here’s how you find your soulmate:Pain.Lena always found the concept odd. She thinks it’s why she tolerated the Luthors' abuse for so long.-OR a reimagination of season 5b, under the premise that soulmates exist on earth prime.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 176





	we'll be a fine line

Here’s how you find your soulmate:

Pain.

Lena always found the concept odd. She thinks it’s why she tolerated the Luthors' abuse for so long; why she let it mold her into who she is now.

Someone who kills their own brother. Lex Luthor, who turned the sun red to murder a hero, who gave himself cancer to attempt murdering another, who was resurrected and jumped through timelines and universes and hoops and loops just to carry out the same old felled task. Even after death, he was exactly the same.

He told her he loved her by murder. Rope tied around her wrists was a hug, spit falling from his lips was a song. Pain, pain, pain.

Someone who betrays their own mother. Lillian Luthor, who taught her chess only to beat her, who welcomed her into her home only to condemn her, who chose Lex over her over and over and over again. Lillian hated that she loved Lena, and deemed to never show it. 

So she told her the ugly, wretched truth. That she’s a bastard. That she’s the cause of all her suffering. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Someone who doesn’t mourn their father. Lionel Luthor, who she never knew was really her own flesh and blood until after his death. The man that had no problem abandoning her until he was forced to take her in. The man that befriended the bottle and is the reason they’re all the way they are. Her mother, her real mother, the one that spun her around and sang to her, loved him so much she’d uprooted her entire life for him.

He told her he loved her by screaming, with his giant palms when her grades were suffering, by threatening to throw her out after every mistake, and worst of all, by making her think she deserved it.

When Lena meets Kara Danvers, there’s no pain. Not at all. There’s laughter, advice, support. Arms instead of rope, UNO instead of chess, and love was simply declared by an “I love you.” Lena was fascinated by it. She craved it like a dog with a bone. Once she got a taste, there was no going back. 

Until Lex happened. Until, seething and snarling and seconds away from death, holding on for dear life just to show her how foolish she is, he played her a _montage_ of it, as if he’d known all along, as if he’d been watching her, laughing at her, saving it for when it would hurt the most. 

Until Earth Prime happened. Until the Universe shifted and vibrated and exploded, stitched back together with flimsy threads and multiple misconceptions.

Until Lena Luthor met Kara Danvers for lunch and pain erupted from her core so suddenly she thought she had been stabbed.

It took Lena a great deal of time before she figured out how their new world operated. The sting from the old one still existed. The hurt from Kara keeping her identity a secret for so long, playing Lena, using her for her inventions while condemning her for them; so it was hard to separate the two. To figure out that it was a new sort of pain.

That when Lena’s head flared with a migraine, it was because Kara was fighting a telepath. That when her side suddenly caved into itself, it was because Kara took a blow to her front to save a child from a block of concrete. That when she moved sluggishly, her energy plummeting, it was because Kara was using the last reserves of her own.

It hurts more than any other hurt Lena’s suffered before. It hurts more than the memory of her mother, than Kara lying to her for years, than killing her own brother.

It hurts because Kara doesn’t seem to be suffering at all.

1

Lena is not entirely sure how she feels about her brother coming back. She’s not sure if she should be grateful for it, or if she’s afraid, or if it’s somewhere in between. Both, perhaps. It doesn’t erase anything. A new Earth doesn’t erase Lena’s killing her brother, doesn’t erase Kara’s hypocrisy, doesn’t erase her actions. 

But somehow, it’s erased their memories of it.

“Dearest sis,” Lex says in that obnoxious way of his, arms held out for her. Lena wonders where he thinks they left off. Does he think Lena helped him, down in that bunker, that she took him by the hand and helped him off the floor? Does he think that they’re working together to bring down a pair of pesky Kryptonians?

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing towards the chair across from _Lena’s_ desk, in _Lena’s_ office, in _Lena’s_ company. Or at least, what was once hers. Maybe this is her punishment. Or is it a gift? A retribution?

“What a world we live in, huh?” Lex swirls in _her_ chair, behind _her_ desk, and looks out at the view from _her_ window. “I tell you, this new soulmate concept is, well, a pain in the ass. There’s enough pain in the world as it is, don’t you think? So, any ideas?”

“I didn’t think you suffered from the same emotions us mortal beings do,” Lena snarks. She sits at the edge of the chair, her back stiff and straight. She refuses to accept it, her place is behind that desk, and she _will_ get it back. “What ideas?”

“Why, Lena, to rid us of this ridiculous new _trend._ Do you know who I suspect is my so called ‘soulmate?’” Lex leans forward, a manic gleam in his eyes. It used to be scary. Under this pretense, it’s just ridiculous. “Eve Tessmacher! Can you believe it? No, there’s absolutely no way. You know what I think? I think this is just a preview, a warning. _If you date this person they will bring you unimaginable suffering_ type of thing.”

Lena just barely holds off smiling. “What do you want me to do about it, build you a new Earth? Hate to break it to you, Lex, the world is not a video game, and it does not revolve around you.”

Lex sighs. “Why should you always be so prejudiced against me? Let me ask you something, have you been feeling any pain yourself?”

“No,” Lena says. Not any pain that is different than usual. It’s only been a week, though.

“Exactly. It’s an unfair system. Some have soulmates, but they’re blonde and perky and much too subservient. Some don’t, and humans are not so fond of being left out. So, obviously, I’ve thought of a solution.”

Lex brandishes a blue-print and unrolls it in front of her. It’s empty.

“A simple solution. We give people the option of blocking their pain receptors! Then those who _despise_ their soulmates no longer have to worry about it.”

“What about the other problem?” Lena asks. “What about the people who don’t have soulmates?”

Lex waves her off. 

“Once we market this tech, they’ll fit right in.”

“Okay, well, you have the concept, but how will you manage it? We don’t even know how our pain receptors can send signals of pain happening to an entirely different organism.”

“It might take a while,” Lex agrees. “Which is why I'm assigning you the lead on the project. Make me proud, lil sis!”

//

It’s only by Lena’s own behest that she gets a start on the project. It’ll help her get her office back, her title back, her _rightful place_ back. Plus, Lena doesn’t like the idea of a soulmate any more than Lex does. How anyone would, under these circumstances, is beyond her. The mere idea of _more pain_ makes Lena feel exhausted. 

But she can’t get started on an invention based on theory alone. She needs data, she needs to know just how this soulmate bond works, it’s very marrow, so that she can beat it, drain it, suck it dry.

Sam barges into the office that is _not_ Lena’s sometime after she arranges an ad to be sent out regarding applications for the experiment. 

Another Post-crisis change: Sam never leaves National City. Or maybe she leaves and comes right back. Lena’s not sure. She doesn’t want to ask and risk sounding like a lunatic.

“My back’s killing me,” Sam says with a wince.

“Why are you limping?” Lena asks, quirking a brow up at her.

Sam stops to think. “I don’t know, honestly. The drama got to me.” she walks to the chair across from Lena sans limp. “My soulmate better be worth it.”

Huh. What a thought. How does the universe even fit people together? What formula is it using? How could it be sure that someone could tolerate the others imperfections, their quirks, their faults? Take Lex, for example. Eve is the last person anyone would pair him with. It seems the world just chose someone he could easily manipulate.

“What if they’re not?” Lena asks.

“They’re my soulmate. How can they not be?”

“I don’t know,” Lena admits thoughtfully. “I’d have to do more research to find out.”

“ _Research?_ ” Sam chuckles. “You’re researching what, love?”

“Not love,” Lena says defensively. “Science. Pain is not an _emotion,_ it’s a self preservation system. It’s Biology. Chemistry.”

“Whatever you say,” Sam says around a smirk. “Tell me, what have you _researched_ so far?”

“Nothing yet. I’m meeting candidates tomorrow.”

“Can I come?” 

“Sure,” Lena shrugs. It’s not like anything interesting is going to happen.

//

The place is jam-packed with candidates _._ Lena can barely breathe, the air so heavy and hot and recycled. She hands off tablets ready with the requisitions and reminds everyone that they signed a contract pledging honesty. 

“This is so boring,” Sam complains. She has a bag of peas held against her hip, which has apparently been throbbing all day. “I thought you’d be asking people invasive questions, wanted to get in on the action. Always wanted to be a cop.”

“You should’ve tagged along with Alex instead.”

“I should’ve. Alex’s job is so fun. No offense.”

“None taken. Here, fill this.”

Lena shoves a pen into Sam’s grip and sacrifices one of her tablets to keep Sam occupied.

“Ooh, fun,” Sam wiggles in her chair. “Name, Taco Bell.”

Lena rolls her eyes, smiling and thanking the candidates as they hand off their forms. “You hang out with Ruby too much.”

“Age,” Sam continues, ignoring her. “I believe I was founded sometime in the fifties. What do you think?”

“Less tragic than your real age,” Lena snipes. It’s pointless. Sam is only tickled by the comment; pleased, even.

“Excuse me?” 

Lena drops the haughty look, turning to greet the soft-voiced candidate. “How can I help you?” 

“I’m sorry,” the woman says, her face hidden by a curtain of brown hair as she looks down at the tablet. Something about her sounds familiar, but Lena can barely recognize it in the hustle and bustle of the facility. “I'm not sure what I'm supposed to fill out here."

“I can see you’ve checked yes here,” Lena tells her, scrolling the screen up, “so you’re supposed to write exactly how many times you’ve experienced it, where, any information you have to describe the sensation. Think of it as a diary entry. Be as specific and honest as you can.”

The woman lifts her head. ”Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Lena replies, a split second too late. The woman, _Andrea,_ smiles at her again before going back to her chair. 

“Hey,” Sam says, kicking at her heels. “Why the staring?”

“Do you know her?” Lena rips her eyes away to look back at Sam. “She looks familiar.”

“Nope,” Sam shrugs. “Will we make it out in time for game night, do you think?”

“It’s only two. I have another two batches coming in.”

“So that’s a no.” Sam makes a disturbed noise through her mouth. “That’s the second week that you’re not coming.”

“That’s a no from me,” Lena corrects, choosing to ignore the second part. “You can go.”

“Do you really think this project can survive without me?” 

Lena flicks at Sam’s achy hip and strides away before she can retaliate.

The sky is dark when she settles into her not-office, on her annoyingly comfortable not-chair, and ruffles through the forms. She finds Andrea Rojas spelt out in robotic penmanship. Her handwriting’s the same, but she doesn’t remember Lena.

//

After restricting the age group and running a quick medical check to eliminate any other sources of pain, around 114 candidates remain. 

Lena sees to the applications personally. She spends her entire morning and afternoon buried in them. Most of them have checked the ‘no’ box for _have you been experiencing unexplained pain?_ a few have checked yes, and all have checked no for _have you found your soulmate yet?_

Lena supposes there hasn’t been enough time to, what with the Earth being of fresh soil and all. Which is a ridiculous concept that makes Lena’s brain hurt, so she tends to lock it up in a box labelled _maddening_ along with other traumatic events and shove it in the deep recesses of her mind.

It’s only been five days, and already Lena feels like she’s making headway. The task seems achievable; nothing with science is impossible. She might even be done with it before she finds who her soulmate is, or before Sam manages to harangue her into a game night.

The idea of it drives Lena to spend the rest of her day in the lab. She rubs a board of one of her previous miscalculations down and replaces it with theories on possible solutions. Obviously the termination of neurotransmitter action would be the easiest route, but it would also inhibit all impulses, cause a plethora of diseases, convulsions, respiratory problems, the list goes on and on.

Or maybe she could just decrease the activity of the receptors, so that the pain is less violent.

She’s made increasingly aware of all the points she will have to consider. There are different neurotransmitters for different parts and functions of the body, and endless cons to the pros. 

Lena spends the rest of the night dividing the experiment into phases and returns home in a daze, her hair down to quell a headache and her eyes half lidded. She must’ve been stuck in a dream-like limbo, because when she sees a brand new text from Kara asking to meet, she forgets about the litany of unanswered ones from before, and replies with a tired smile.

//

She forgets about it until brunch time, when she receives an _on my way!_ text from Kara. She opens the text chain frantically, gaping at the red heart she’d sent.

She curses herself and remains seated for a full minute, contemplating her options. This seems like a hill more insurmountable than the soulmate bond, one that she could never, ever climb.

She hasn’t seen Kara since Pre-Crisis, since their fight, since she’d revealed that she knew her secret identity, stole Myriad, and immediately regretted it. She’s not sure what Kara remembers. From her texts, and the game night invites, and Sam’s placidity, she figures nothing at all, though it’s hard to believe. The Kara from before would’ve forced her way in, would’ve demanded to know why Lena was dodging her calls.

It’s the curiosity. It drives her into putting on her light coat and swiping up in their text chain, checking where they planned to meet up. Noonan’s, of course. Lena hands off the approved list of candidates to her assistant (still Jess, thank god), informs her that she won’t be back for a while, and takes her leave.

Kara’s already there when she arrives. Before, she might’ve taken a moment to get herself together, maybe to sneak a peek of how Kara acts when she thinks no one’s watching, but now that need irks her, knowing Kara can probably hear her coming from miles away, knowing she could probably sense Lena’s heart beating rapidly when they slept in the same bed and sense Lena watching her when she was doing something else. 

Lena strides in before she can wrap her mind around the sight of her. She squeezes between the table settings, muttering _excuse me_ s as she goes. Waiters speed by her, their trays precariously filled, and some of the patrons have to nudge their chairs out of the way. Noonan’s has always been a preposterous meeting point between them. Lena only loved it for the plain reason that Kara did, but it was always incredibly busy. She guesses it’s harder not to see the annoying little quirks when she’s mad at Kara. 

It happens so quickly that Lena doesn’t even know how the cascade of events had transpired. Their eyes must meet across the room, as they often do, and a stabbing pain erupts from Lena’s stomach. She winces, thinks she must’ve been stabbed from behind, and when she looks back towards Kara she’s standing stiffly, her eyes wide and a flustered blush dusting her cheeks, blinking at a table that’s crumbled to pieces on the ground.

“I don’t know how that happened,” she claims, before anyone can ask any questions, a guilty hand tugging at her collar; making sure her suit is hidden, probably. “I was just walking,” she says, waving animatedly, “and then I came by here, and then- this table must not have a good foundation.” She kneels down, tapping the wood with her knuckles, and springs back up. “Yep, see? not good…”

Lena scurries out of the cafe, leaving a rambling Kara behind, and gets back in her town car. She opens her coat, hand touching smooth skin, and thinks she must still be dreaming. Seeing Kara again-- it must’ve undone her. Her bangs are gone, must’ve been a crisis change, and she looked so much like _before_ , and it _felt_ so much like before, that seeing Kara kick out at the table leg and accidentally break it when she saw her brought everything back, hurt her so much that it almost bowled her over.

Lena goes back to Noonan’s hours later. 

“Here,” she tells the front desk, taking out her checkbook. She goes to brace it on the desk, then holds it against her arm instead. Dusty. She signs the check with vague threats and a stern look, and the manager is profusely thanking her by the time she leaves.

It doesn’t mean anything.

//

Kara keeps texting. She doesn’t call, must remember how angry it makes Lena when people flood her voicemail, and she doesn’t come by the office or her condo, but she keeps texting. _Please can we meet_ and _Lena please_ always _please please please._

Each message hurts Lena, squeezes at her heart, renders her mind useless for anything else for the rest of the day, and she’s sick of it. She’s sick of people she loves hurting her and hurting them in turn. She’s sick of this new earth and she’s sick of Kara and she’s sick of feeling sick.

So Lena agrees to meet Kara again. She’s going to set her straight in person, make sure she gets it clear. The way Kara hurts her feels too close to a soulmate bond, even though Lena knows it isn’t, knows it’s the same hurt she’s been grappling with since before the soulmate bond even existed. Their last meeting was a fluk e, Lena's emotions taking a too strong hold of her, and she’ll prove it to herself. 

There has to be a love without hurt. There has to. And if letting Kara go will stop hurting the both of them, Lena will do it, and if finding a way to block pain receptors will stop perpetuating the notion, then Lena will do that as well.

//

They meet at an unfamiliar vantage point. Everywhere Lena’s been in this city is intrinsically intertwined with Kara, so she chooses a place they both haven’t been to before. 

Lena goes there earlier, this time. She sits on the bench and has her driver park on the other side of the street so he can text her when Kara’s near.

But, of course, Lena can never be prepared when it comes to Kara. It’s like she’s dressed herself especially to entice Lena, with her pink coat and her golden curls shining in the sun and the soft way that’s always particularly attracted Lena, urging her to touch, to be kinder than usual, to coax a blush onto Kara’s cheeks.

“Thank you for meeting me,” Kara says. She sits beside Lena, puts a bag of what must be pastries in between them. She can barely meet Lena’s eyes, instead glancing at her from the corner of her own and twiddling with her sleeve.

Lena cuts to the chase before she does something stupid, like touch Kara’s coat or accept the conciliatory gift between them.

“Nothing’s changed,” she says.

Kara’s fingers, which Lena is keenly aware of, stop playing with her sleeve. 

“ _Everything’s_ changed,” she argues weakly. “Lex is the head of L-Corp. Noonan’s is an entire block further down from CatCo. Sam’s here.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Lena repeats, until Kara’s face whitens and falls. 

“So you still hate me.”

She has no right to sound so downtrodden, so broken.

If only Lena’s heart would stop drumming and thumping and rioting. If only it did not want to reach out and soothe.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lena says. “I don’t want myriad. Is it back in the fortress?”

“Yes,” Kara says immediately.

“Good. I have to go.”

Lena nudges the untouched paper bag towards Kara and stands, her boots sinking a little into snow coated ground. 

“What?” Kara squints up at her. The ketchup springs from the hot dog to splatter against her pink coat, courtesy of her tight grip. “You take it back, just like that?”

“Yes,” Lena says, tightening her coat around herself. “Fresh start, and all that. Bye, Kara.”

//

“What we’re looking for is variety,” Lena says.

Andrea, sitting across from her, doesn’t have any makeup on, no pretenses, no proud jaw. Just a woman signing up for an experiment. Lena wonders.

“People who are experiencing pain, people who aren’t. People willing to isolate themselves from their soulmate after finding out who they are, at least for a determined period of time. People willing to pursue a relationship with their soulmate.”

“I’m definitely _not_ willing to pursue a relationship,” Andrea interrupts. “I just want the pain to be over. I don’t need a soulmate.”

Lena catches herself staring and quickly moves on. “Okay, so,” she shuffles her papers as she gathers herself, “tell me about the pain you’ve been experiencing.”

“It’s inconvenient,” Andrea answers. She shifts, going faraway and thoughtful, the same way the others had as Lena posed the question. Lena settles into her chair and listens. “And it happens way too often, you know? To the point it’s just like… My father’s sick, and I’m taking care of him. At least, trying to. And then my head just suddenly flares with this intense migraine. Like I can't do _anything.”_

“Is it just a migraine? No other kind of pain?”

“Just the migraine.”

“Can you feel it building up, or coming on?” Lena asks. “Or is it sudden, unexpected?”

Andrea goes quiet for a while as she thinks. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess I never focused enough to process it.”

“Okay, that’s one of the first things we’re going to have to figure out. This is a contract detailing the terms of agreement, you can have a lawyer look it over if you’d like. The major points are the payment, and consent to a continuous week of isolation for analysis.”

“A week? I can’t go away for that long. My dad—”

“Will be taken care of,” Lena assures her. “You can choose whatever facility or nurse you want to place him in the care of, and we will get it done.”

“So that’s it?” Andrea asks. “I sign this and you pay me?”

“As per the agreement.”

Andrea signs without another shred of thought. 

Lena wonders.

“We will be calling you for weekly check ups. I need you to keep in mind the questions I asked earlier and try to answer them. Keeping a journal would be ideal.”

“Okay, I will.” Andrea reaches across the desk for a handshake. “Thank you so much, Ms. Luthor.”

Lena reaches over to take it, a mixture of emotions so messy that she could never untangle them roiling in her stomach, when the door slams open. She takes a hold of Andrea’s arm and pulls her behind the desk, ever used to loud bangs indicating assassination attempts.

It’s only Kara. Well, not only. Kara could never be an _only_. “What did you mean,” she says, before Lena can think to scold her, “the other day, when you said you take it back?”

“Kara,” Lena says incredulously. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

Kara’s eyes shift towards Andrea, and then down to where Lena’s still gripping her close by the arm. 

Lena quickly lets go, clearing her throat. 

“I’m sorry, Andrea.” 

“No, it’s okay, Ms. Luthor.” Andrea says awkwardly. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“I’m beginning to regret giving you full access,” Lena mutters once Andrea leaves, dropping into her chair. “I thought I was clear.”

Kara’s eyes tear themselves away from Andrea’s disappearing back. “So you take that back too? You take back the full access? You take back our friendship?”

Lena locks her jaw. She can’t bring herself to _say it,_ not really. It’s partly why she pretended so long, because she couldn’t bear to hurt Kara, even when Kara had hurt her. And then the anger boiled over and she’d hurt her anyways.

“Because I don't want to,” Kara says. “I know I hurt you and I know you hurt me but I don’t take any of it back. I want… I want to be your friend, Lena, more than anything in the world. I want to make things right.”

Lena stays quiet, keeps the longing in her heart under wraps, avoids the way Kara’s chest heaves like she’s just run a marathon. She holds herself stiffly as tremors wrack her stomach, as if her very own intestines are reaching out, revolting.

“I don’t take it back,” Kara repeats, looking miserable but determined. “Any of it. I’ll wait, if that’s what you want. But just please- don’t take it back. You mean more to me than you could ever know.”

Kara hovers, waiting. Lena thinks she might’ve whispered _please_ before she left. She’s not sure.

Lena dreams of her that night. Of her ardent, fervent admission during the Pulitzer party. _I hurt you just like everyone else._ She dreams of her trapped in the kryptonite ice, hurt all up in her veins. She dreams of Lex and Lillian and Lionel. She dreams of a tower that not even Supergirl can fly up to. She barely gets herself out of bed. 

//

Lena always had a soft spot for Brainy, ever since a tear had rolled down his cheek and he’d said, _I’m not a robot, I'm techno organic. I have feelings._

But, he still lied to her. On that day, Kara could’ve died. Not Supergirl. Kara and Supergirl are one person, yes, but not then. Then there was Kara separate from Supergirl, and Lena would have lost her because of her own shortcomings, because of her own device, and never known it.

Maybe she’d be told that Kara had run off somewhere. Maybe (definitely) she’d spend the rest of her life searching for her, waiting for a text, anything, never knowing that she had been lying on a metal slab with green poison in her veins in front of her. Maybe she’d think that Kara was mad at her for killing Supergirl, disappointed; maybe J’onn would impersonate her for a while and let her down easy.

All this swirling in her mind, urging her towards anger, as Brainy walks into her office.

“I’ve analyzed the data I have gathered on you over the years,” he says, “and I’ve concluded that the probability you wouldn’t be trying to undo this soulmate link is near to 0 percent.”

“Are you here to stop me?” 

“On the contrary. I want in.”

Lena scoffs. “How do I know Alex didn’t send you here to spy on me?” 

“She did send me here to spy on someone,” Brainy admits. “But not you. Lex. Besides, I’m not programmed to lie.”

“You’ve been _lying_ to me for years.”

“I never lied to you, Lena. I simply withheld information.” 

Lena glares at him, locking her jaw to keep her hurtful words inside, and Brainy takes a hesitant step towards her.

“I know what it’s like,” he says, “to be fearful to show your true self. Your cloaking device, it’s helped me. This wasn’t my secret to reveal.”

At least he’ll admit it, that Kara was afraid of her.

“What about Nia?” Lena asks. 

Brainy looks away.

“Nia and I are over.”

“Is she your soulmate?” 

“Yes,” he says slowly, the word forcing itself out of his mouth, as if he still hasn’t come to terms with it.

“And you know that for sure?”

“I have data to back it up.”

“Fine,” Lena says. “You can be part of it. But only as a test subject.”

Brainy starts to argue, but Lena only has to lift an unimpressed eyebrow for him to halt in his place. 

“I accept,” he says, like it’s pulling teeth.

“What kind of pain have you been experiencing?” Lena asks, out of curiosity rather than anything else. She’s shocked by his answer.

“Emotional,” Brainy says stiffly. “Feelings that I was not capable of prior to the bond’s existence. Sadness… extreme, unnatural sadness.”

Lena rubs a hand over her chest, where her heart sat heavily, as though a heavy weight was harnessed to it, a weight she’s felt since she took that first step away from Kara.

It doesn’t mean anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a soulmate au so im finally doing it! You can also find a little mood board i made on my tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/amnesia-yourself)


End file.
